


Do You Feel Like a Man When You Push Him Around?

by Ceilidh (ChaseAwayMyFears)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:13:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2072964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaseAwayMyFears/pseuds/Ceilidh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is in an abusive relationship. Gavin helps him leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Feel Like a Man When You Push Him Around?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on tumblr: Do you think you could do an angst fic where michael was in an abusive relationship and gavin has to comfort him? 
> 
> I've never really written abuse and I don't really know a whole lot about the ins-and-outs of how it's dealt with legally. If this seems too far fetched, I'm sorry. I was asked to write it, so I did. It does contain mentions of abuse. If that is in anyway a trigger, please be warned.

_“What are you doing?”_

_“Nothing.”_

_“What the—”_

_“Give you your phone, Michael.”_

_“What? No!”_

_“Give me your fucking phone! Now, Michael!”_

_“Who the fuck is this?”_

_“No-one, I swear. I swear!”_

_“You’re a fucking liar. How many fucking times do I have to tell you? How many times do I have to punish you? You’re a goddamn dirty whore. You’re lying fucking scum!”_

_“I’m sorry! Please!”_

_“Get back here! Where the fuck are you going?!”_

Hair ripped out.

So much pain.

Black eye.

_“No one will love you. Not when I’m fucking done. If you won’t love me, you won’t love anyone! No one will have you! You’ll finally resemble the trash I always knew you were!”_

Please, stop.

Cold darkness.

*

Michael sat at the almost-empty bar, nursing an empty glass and an aching body. He stared at the grain on the wooden bar top so he wouldn’t have to draw attention to himself. It was dark and quiet here, which he appreciated. He needed darkness, he needed peace.

“Hey, mate. Can I get you another?”

Michael jumped, his head flying up, eyes wide. He knew his fear was all over his face; he could feel it twisting his features.

The barman smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump. Drink?”

Michael nodded and relinquished his grasp on the glass. The barman took it with an apologetic smile.

Michael didn’t care about him. He didn’t care about anything anymore. Everything was gone; his home, his life, his boyfriend, his dignity, his will to live.

The only thing he had going for him was the fact that he hadn’t cried. Not yet. He hoped he never would. He really would be weak if he did.

“Here y’ go, mate.” Michael chucked a five dollar bill across the counter. It was under his glass the next moment. “On the house; you look like you need it.”

“What the fuck would you know about it?” he snapped into the fresh drink, and then gasped in horror. “I’m sorry. I- I’m sorry. Please, I just—”

“Hey, hey, it’s all right. Why don’t you tell me about it?” At Michael’s blank look, the bartender snorted. “I’m a bartender. I’m practically half therapist.”

Michael threw back half his drink in one go, before returning to staring at the bar silently.

“Well, all right, then. But if you need to talk.”

“I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

The bartender nodded and went to serve his other customers.

*

Gavin watched the man out of the corner of his eye. As strange as it was, he was worried about him. He’d been sat in that exact spot for hours, not doing anything except throwing back whiskey. Gavin had tried small talk, but nothing would get through to him. That didn’t happen very often; people always told him he had a great shoulder to lean on.

But whatever the bloke had been through, it had messed him up.

When Gavin called for last orders, the man didn’t move. He just tapped against his empty glass, a habit that Gavin had quickly picked up to mean he wanted another drink, but didn’t want to ask for one, for whatever reason.

He’d been absolutely silent since his outburst. Gavin felt sorry for him. He’d seen him walk in with a carry bag that looked so full Gavin was paranoid it was going to burst any second. It had lasted all evening, though, so Gavin assumed it was safe.

“This has to be your last drink, and then I have to shut up. You’ll have to go home.”

He started shaking then, his knuckles turning white on his last drink. He looked up at Gavin, his eyes swimming.

Gavin was silently shocked for a moment, before saying quietly; “you don’t have anywhere to go, do you?”

Michael sneered, but it wasn’t at Gavin; it was at himself. Gavin was known to be oblivious, but even he could tell that.

Michael hung his head and breathed in a shaky breath.

“I have a couch.” Michael didn’t look up, so Gavin took that to mean he didn’t catch Gavin’s meaning. “You’re welcome to it. I also have all the whiskey you can drink. Free of charge.”

The tears were falling. They were splashing onto the bar, and Gavin’s heart fell with each one.

“Come on. Say something.”

“I can’t. I need to go back.”

“If you were planning on going back you wouldn’t have bought that with you. Come on, I’m not taking no for an answer.” That was the wrong thing to say. Michael flinched hard and seemed to curl in on himself even more.

“It’s up to you, but maybe it’s best to sleep on it for a night. You look shattered. Come on, mate.”

Michael shook and cried and fell to pieces in from of him. He was used to customers opening up to him, spilling their guts and crying into their drink, but he’d never faced this before, in or out of work.

He’d never seen someone so broken, so vulnerable.

“I’m going to get my stuff and when I come back, if you’re still here, I’ll take that as you’re coming with me, deal?” After a moment of silence, Gavin sighed and walked through the back of the bar.

*

“Why are you doing this?” Michael whispered as Gavin drove them back to his apartment.

“Everyone needs someone there for them.”

“I’m a stranger.”

Gavin just kept driving. Michael wrung his hands together, pulled his sweater over his hands and stared out of the window.

He couldn’t comprehend the kindness of this man – Gavin, he’d told him was his name. He had thought what was at home was good, was normal, but in the back of his mind, he knew It wasn’t. He knew it was toxic, but his boyfriend had been the only one there for him. Michael loved him. He was all Michael was allowed to love, he knew. He’d been told over and over that he could live without anyone and anything except his boyfriend. It had been ingrained into his head.

“Come on, we’re here. Do you need some time to yourself? I can leave you keys if you promise you won’t take a joy ride.”

Michael shook his head and climbed slowly out of the car. He didn’t bother looking up from the ground as Gavin lead the way to his home.

“The sofa is all yours for as long as you need it. I can get out of your way, if you want.”

Michael perched on the very edge of the plush couch, rigid and shaking still.

“Can you sit with me?” he whispered roughly.

“Of course. Come on, Michael. You’re safe here. You can relax. Do you need anything?”

Michael shuffled until he was sat on the couch properly, his knees drawn up under his chin. He stared at the coffee table. It was unblemished, not smashed like the one at home.

_It’s not my home anymore. I left._

“Whiskey,” was all he said, and Gavin retrieved it from the kitchen, handing him a glass before pouring in a generous amount, and then he poured his own glass before stretching back, leaving the bottle on the table.

Michael downed it almost immediately and welcomed the burn in his chest. At least he could feel something.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

No, he didn’t, but he felt like Gavin deserved the truth after everything.

Besides, it was easier to talk to a stranger, that’s what Ray, his friend back home – back there – had told him.

“I left my boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”

Michael sighed. He didn’t understand. Of course he didn’t.

Michael just nodded, feeling his eyes start to burn again, so he poured himself another drink and transferred the burn to his throat.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Gavin said at the same time Michael said;

“He hit me.”

There was a stunned silence.

“Oh, god, Michael. Michael, I’m sorry.”

At least he sounded sincere. He actually sounded like he was going to start crying, too.

“Just once?”

He’d never heard it before but Michael hated that question. He could only shake his head and fall apart again.

The overwhelming fear and disgust at himself nearly made him sick.

“It’s my fault.”

“No! Never say that. It’s never your fault. He’s disgusting. He deserved to be locked up. Michael, look at me.” Michael flinched and Gavin sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, please look at me.”

Michael tilted his head so he could see Gavin in his peripherals.

“It is not your fault. Whatever he told you, it’s not true. I may not know you but you are a good person. You are a beautiful man who deserves so much more than that. No one deserves that. But it is never your fault.”

“I provoked him. I made him angry. I went against his orders and he had to punish me. He had to teach me a lesson.”

“Orders? Michael, you think orders and punishment are normal in a relationship? Because they’re not. Beating your partner black and blue and frightening them to death is not normal.”

Michael was silent. He just stared at Gavin, eyes watering, chest aching from bruises and holding back sobs.

Gavin looked so fiercely protective. His eyes were practically on fire.

“I’m going to go to bed. Are you going to be okay?”

 _No, I don’t think so._ “Yes. Thank you, Gavin.”

“If you need anything at all, I’m just through there, all right?”

Michael nodded and Gavin left.

He lay on the couch and cried.

*

Gavin walked into the living room and his heart fell. Michael and his bag were gone. Gavin hoped against hope that he hadn’t gone back. He had a very bad feeling he had. He could only hope Michael would turn up to the bar that night.

He didn’t. He didn’t turn up all week, or the week after.

After the third week, Michael was slipping from Gavin’s mind. Gavin had to focus on work, on his own life; he couldn’t spend every waking moment worrying about a stranger.

But at the end of the third week, Michael did come into the bar.

Gavin was busy with a stag party, so he didn’t notice him straight away. When all the rowdy blokes had swaggered off to get smashed, Gavin saw him sat at the bar, already shaking. His shouldler were hunched and he had his head in his hands.

“Michael?” Gavin whispered when he approached the broken man.

When he looked up, Gavin was surprised he wasn’t crying. He looked furious; scared, but furious.

“Whiskey?”

Michael nodded sharply.

When Gavin handed him the drink, he stayed with him, watching him sip it gently, and then throw it back.

“I’ve been worried, Michael.”

Michael glared at him. “You said to sleep on it. I slept on it.”

“And you went back.” It wasn’t a question, and Michael had the decency to look bothered by the statement.

“I had to. You have no idea what he would do if I really left.” Fear laced his voice now, making it shake.

Gavin was disappointed, and he knew it wasn’t fair to be. “I told you, you are safe at my house.”

“I’m never safe.”

“Did he touch you again?”

Michael just stared at Gavin through his eyelashes, barely meeting his gaze.

“Oh, Michael. Come on, come through the back. Ryan, could you take over for a bit?” he asked his co-worker before pulling Michael into the backroom.

The panic that was in Michael’s eyes made Gavin want to – _need to_ – comfort him. But he didn’t know how. He didn’t know if Michael would be comfortable with anything he did or said. All he wanted to do was pull him into a hug and kill his abusive prick of a partner.

“Can you talk to me?”

Michael stayed silent for a long while. Finally, though, in a small voice, he said;

“He was nice, like before, for a week or two. But then I was talking to my friend Ray, and he just flipped out. I’m not allowed to speak to other people, especially other men. I shouldn’t really be here now. If he knew where I was…”

“You’re safe here. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Why? Why do you care? You have to know that I don’t trust you.”

“I know that. But I hope, in time, you’ll be able to. I want to help you, Michael. You have to leave him.”

“It’s not that fucking simple, though, is it? The amount of times I’ve packed my bags and walked away… and every time, I have to go back. I love him, Gavin. He’s all I have. And I know that he loves me; he’s just… heavy handed.”

“He hurts you, Michael. He’s broken you into pieces. You’ve said it yourself; you don’t feel safe. That’s not love, Michael.”

“He only does it because I deserve it.”

“Michael, please. Don’t go back. Come home with me. Or go to your friend Ray’s.”

“I could never go there. He knows where Ray lives. If he found me there he’d kill us both.”

There was a certainty in his voice that told Gavin he wasn’t fucking around.

Gavin sighed. He didn’t want to push. He didn’t want to pressure Michael. He just wanted to help.

“Have you been to the police?”

“Once,” he said reluctantly. “I ended up with a broken rib and a black eye for a week.”

He couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t imagine someone being so inhumane, so cruel to someone they were supposed to love. It was incomprehensible.

“Gavin, I… I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I… I want to leave. I know he loves me, but I can’t deal with it much long.”

“Do you have anywhere to go where he can’t find you?”

Michael sighed and hung his head. “No.”

“Then come home with me. It’s completely up to you but I know you’ll be safe.”

He looked unsure. His eyes flitted around the room before meeting Gavin’s. He swallowed and nodded slowly.

Gavin held out his hand, and, after a long moment, Michael took it.

*

Michael was led on the couch with Gavin sat at his feet. They were watching some old black and white film, but Michael wasn’t paying much attention.

_He’ll find me and he’ll kill me. He’ll kill Gavin first and then he’ll kill me._

_He’ll kill Gavin._

Gavin had one hand resting on Michael’s blanket-covered foot, and as stupid as it was, and with all the thoughts spiralling through his head, he felt safe.

At that moment, he knew. He knew that he couldn’t let any harm come to this wonderful stranger.

Though they weren’t really strangers anymore.

Michael had been staying at Gavin’s for just over a week now. Every time Gavin had to leave for work, Michael would curl into a ball and not move for the nine hours he was alone. Every footstep and noise outside made his heart race and his stomach leap.

_It’s him. He’s found me._

But it never was. Gavin would always be home and would always greet Michael with a warm smile. This was how it was supposed to be. He knew that, but he still battled every day. Every time he felt he needed to go back, he’d have to call the bar and have Gavin talk him out of it.

He’d managed to talk to Gavin about it a bit more openly. The more time he spent away from it, the more he began to realise that something had been really wrong.

And then, one night, things hit rock bottom.

He and Gavin were watching TV as they did most nights. They were comfortable in their silence, when someone started hammering on the door.

Michael jumped and curled into a ball on instinct. Gavin rested a hand on his thigh and held a finger to his lips, cocking his head to the side to listen.

The block of apartments he lived in wasn’t the quietest and Michael was becoming used to pounding music and footsteps, but no one had knocked on the door like that before.

“I know you’re in there!”

Michael looked at Gavin, terrified. Gavin motioned for him to stay down on the sofa and went to the front door.

Michael pleaded quietly for him to stay, to not go out there, but Gavin said it would be okay.

The pounding didn’t stop, even through the shouting.

“Michael, I know you’re fucking in there. Open the fucking door, now!”

“Can I help you?” he heard Gavin say in a calm, tense voice. He had the chain across the door so there was only a few inches of space to see into and out of the flat.

“Who the fuck are you? Where’s Michael?”

“I think you need to calm down.”

Something hit to door hard. More shouting and swearing, more crashing around.

“Michael. Come on, Michael, please.” He was pleading now, his anger seemingly gone, but Michael knew differently. His heart pulled at his boyfriend’s begging, but he knew now that he was just playing, that as soon as Michael left with him, he’d be black and blue and broken again.

“You need to leave,” Gavin stated coldly. “Now.”

“I’m not leaving without Michael.”

“He’s not going anywhere.”

There was an almighty crash, Gavin shouted, and then he was in the room, staring lividly at Michael.

“Get up, now. We’re going home.”

“N-no.”

“ _Michael! You’re coming with me now! I swear to fucking god I’ll kill this punk.”_

Michael just stared at the man he thought he’d loved, the man he thought had loved him.

“Leave. Just leave.”

He sneered and raised his fist, making to grab Michael with the other.

And then he was out cold on the floor. Gavin had a frying pan in hand.

It was like something out of a movie. It didn’t seem real. The next few hours passed in a forgettable blur. There were police everywhere. Michael was pulling aside into Gavin’s room by an officer and asked if he could show his bruises. He complied, because it was the police. They told him that he would be safe, they interrogated Gavin, who stood strong next to Michael through it all.

Finally, the man on the floor was dragged away. He wasn’t the man Michael had loved, he was a monster. Michael knew that now. Perhaps he always had been.

When they were alone, Michael curled into Gavin’s side and cried, out of fear and relief and anger and sorrow.

Gavin sat with him all night, and when Michael woke in the morning after a paltry few hours’ sleep, Gavin was still there, still awake.

“What are you doing?” Michael mumbled, stretching, then curling back into the couch.

“Keeping you safe.”

Three weeks later, his abuser went to court; because that’s all he was now; a painful memory of abuse and violence. He had torn Michael apart from the inside out and now he was the one being punished.

Michael hoped he’d rot in a prison cell, but he didn’t get sent down. He got probation and a hefty fine, and Michael managed to take a restraining order.

For months, Michael was terrified to leave the house. He saw the man around every corner, as if waiting to pounce. He wasn’t really there, of course, but it took a long time to let go enough that he could begin to relax.

He started going to counselling, which helped, and it helped having Gavin by his side.

Almost a year after leaving the violence, he and Gavin entered into a relationship. It was what he wanted more than anything, to be safe and happy again, like he hadn’t been for a long, long time.

He was scared Gavin would turn out to be the same, but he never pressured Michael, never forced him to do anything, and took it at his pace. It was hard letting Gavin touch him, but as they grew closer as a couple, he began to realise that Gavin was very different from his ex. He cared, truly and completely, and that was what Michael needed. Gavin made him feel safe and secure and didn’t talk down to him, never shouted at him, only had kind things to say.

It was slow going, but Michael healed. He never saw his ex again, which was perfectly fine by him.

He sometimes still thinks that he doesn’t deserve Gavin, that he doesn’t deserve any of this, that it’s going to be torn away from him at any minute, but his counsellor tells him that he’ll be able to overcome that in time. He hopes she’s right.

He sees Ray often; he and Gavin had become friends, too, and it was nice to have a lads’ night in and be able to relax. It was nice to feel safe, to _be_ safe.

Michael was starting to feel whole again, no longer a shadow of a broken man.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope... well... enjoyed isn't really the right word here but you know what I mean. Thank you for reading.


End file.
